Behind Blue Eyes
by Lilium Inter Spinas
Summary: Watch the work of a puppet master, as the new Transfiguration professor manipulates everything around her, enraging others and intimidating some along the way.
1. Unusual Welcoming Feast

Thousands upon thousands of glistening candles floated about five long, wooden tables. The weak light shone on a sea of pointed black hats, on the heads of students. A few of them were chatting with one another, while newer students still captivated by the majesty of the castle stared with wonder at the ceiling, bewitched to appear the exact reflection of the weather outside. Currently, the sky was a stormy gray, swirling with threatening black clouds. A few flashes of lightning forked across the sky, and a few seconds later, thunder rumbled, threatening those within earshot. There was a feeling of tension in this grand hall - eyes wandered nervously, from place to place, yet all eyes wandered back to the cavernous oaken doors leading into the hall.

Almost as expected, the doors flew open. Yet the line of petrified first years was led by two people, rather than one. The first was a tall wizard, with a white beard to rival both his height and the appearance of power that radiated from his form. He was, of course, Albus Dumbledore - Hogwarts' Headmaster. Behind him, a woman that was tall, though paled in comparison to the power of the archaic yet active Headmaster, followed almost resentfully. Her cold blue eyes were narrowed, occasionally grazing the masses of students that stared wordlessly at her. Most, of course, had not laid eyes on such a woman, dressed in robes that looked as if they cost nearly an entire vault at Gringott's to purchase. This woman's name was Charna Anwen Beaumont Wellington of London, though most were too in awe, or of reverence, or of fear to speak her full name. Most never dared.

As soon as the line of first years had formed in front of the eyes of the anxious student body, Dumbledore beamed. He opened his arms to the crowd of students, all sitting at the tables with empty plates and goblets, their stomachs growling almost viciously against the skin around the abdominal area. "Welcome," he began, "to another year at Hogwarts. Yet, before the Sorting begins," he continued, gesturing to the three-legged stool with the tattered old hat perched atop it, "I have a few announcements. First of all, security around the castle has been increased, as you all know - or at least those of you who rode carriages into school …."

A boy with flaming red hair nudged the boy next to him - a pale teenager with jet black hair and large, emerald green eyes. "You're telling me," Ron whispered quietly to Harry, his companion. "Dragons - I'll bet Hagrid is having a regular fair day with it," he followed, grinning half out of fear, but out of happiness for their friend. Ever since they had first met Hagrid in their first year, he had been obsessed with magical creatures. It pained Ron to recollect the memory of that poisonous dragon bite, given to him by the pet dragon Hagrid had named 'Norbert.' In third year, Hagrid had become the Care of Magical Creatures instructor. Out of thought, Ron glanced up at the staff table, where he noticed Professor McGonagall was missing, as well as the place for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. There had been rumors that the position had not been filled, as most believed it to be cursed - of course that was ludicrous.

"It's _field day, _Ron," Harry corrected. A girl with bushy brown hair eyed the pair of them. "Shh," Hermione mumbled, staring her two best friends into silence.

Trying vainly to pay attention, yet not entirely succeeding, as the grumbling in his stomach was too distracting, Harry squinted at the blonde woman standing beside Dumbledore. He noticed that Snape, the Potions Master, did not look to happy about her presence there. "….. your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be arriving tomorrow, and I am expecting the person by breakfast time." Here, Dumbledore allowed himself a smile, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses. "As many of you have noticed, Professor McGonagall is absent, due to reasons of her own - I have the pleasure of introducing one Miss Charna Wellington, who will be your temporary Transfiguration instructor."

'Order business, I'll bet my firebolt,' Harry thought to himself.

There was a polite smatter of applause, and Dumbledore took a seat. The Sorting Hat began its usual song, in an inventive new way of telling of the Four House's qualities. One could wonder, after some time being a Sorting Hat, how it could come up with so many versions of the same thing. There was a roar of approval as the song was finished, and thus began the most (to some) boring part of the Sorting. Now holding a scroll in her hands, the woman introduced as Charna began to call off the names of students. She spoke in a regal drawl, one that was common of those in her obviously high class bearing. Yet she only really took interest when the Sorting Hat shouted out "SLYTHERIN!" This was because the woman herself had been a Slytherin.

After the Sorting was completed and the Hat whisked away to its proper place in Dumbledore's office, Charna took a seat, well aware of the stares received by her new colleagues. Responding, Charna only sneered as a plate full of food appeared magically before her, after which she focused herself on her silent dinner, eating in the fashion of a nineteenth century noble. Occasionally, the Headmaster would lean over and whisper something in Charna's ear, to which she would smile, and mutter something back in an undertone. To the right side of Charna sat Severus Snape, the greasy haired Potions Master. Unexpectedly, Snape broke the normal routine of his habitual eating procedures to talk with this woman as well.

"Wellington," he whispered in her ear, almost as if the name were an insult - perhaps poison that he needed to be rid of. "What are you doing here?" His second question was both puzzled and confused. To this, the woman who sneered so much it seemed unhealthy took a ladylike sip of her pumpkin juice.

"Have you not heard the Headmaster, Severus? I'm teaching here."

'Bloody great way to start the year,' Snape thought to himself.


	2. Absolute Bedlam

'Bloody great way to start the year,' Snape thought to himself.

"PEEVES!" the Bloody Baron roared, as soon as the poltergeist entered the hall of feasting students. Suddenly, the chatter buzzing about the Great Hall halted, and Peeves grinned maliciously, cackling in his oily voice. The woman named Charna narrowed her eyes at the poltergeist - she remembered Peeves with particular annoyance from her days at Hogwarts. On one occasion, Charna could recall when the nasty excuse for a ghost had entered her dormitory at an early hour, and had unleashed wriggling Jelly Snakes into her bed. Ever since that moment in her fourth year, she had developed a rather cold-shouldered attitude toward him.

Beside her, Snape bristled. Dumbledore merely looked on with keen interest, to see what Peeves would do. Silently, Charna slid a long, pale hand into the depths of her dress robes pocket. Surrounded by crushed velvet, Charna's hand clasped around her polished wand. 'He's doing a better job than I could have thought,' Charna thought to herself, still watching the scene as Peeves began throwing plates of food every which way. Some students ran from the hall (Peeves pelted them with Exploding Dungbombs), but most had taken refuge underneath their tables, still assaulted by bits of mashed potatoes and gravy now and again. Sometimes, an occasional pea rolled underneath the table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione (accompanied by a rather cramped Neville Longbottom) had a quick conference underneath the Gryffindor table.

"So, what do you all make of this …" Harry began, holding a plate in front of his face, just in time to avoid becoming a strawberry pie. "…Wellington woman? She reminds me of Lucius Malfoy. You know, it's odd, Snape doesn't seem to …" some mint ice cream came flying at Harry, "like her all that much. Did you see the way he was staring at her during dinner? Maybe they know each other or something." Beside him, Neville nodded. Ron only dismissed this with a wave, but Neville spoke before Ron could get a chance.

"Well, this Wellington woman, whoever she is - I certainly hope she's as good as McGonagall was, wherever she is … let's hope for a bit nicer as well," Neville muttered. Behind him, still shielding himself from the incoming food thrown by Peeves (still not under control from the Baron's threats), Harry made a noise of disbelief. With the looks of this woman, she looked closer to a 'no tolerance' type. Just by the few minutes the students had gotten of their new Transfiguration teacher, she did not look friendly. And how right they were.

At the staff table, the teachers were preparing their assault. Most had their wands drawn, but in the end, it was decided to have the new Transfiguration teacher, Charna Wellington, aid the Baron in his fruitless efforts to extract Peeves from the Great Hall. Immediately, the woman sprang into action. It was all part of her plan to get her colleagues to trust her. Moving quickly across the food-strewn Great Hall, Charna directed her wand at Peeves. "Geluhaltus!" she shouted, a beam of purple light erupting from her wand tip. The poltergeist, in the middle of throwing a plate, was frozen solid. Where the conference beneath the Gryffindor table was taking place, all were in awe.

"I've heard about the Haltus Spell before - that's supposed to be borderline Dark Magic or something …" Hermione muttered, the patterns of purple light still fading from her sight.

"Hiya, Harry!" a squeaky voice by Harry's ear exclaimed. Harry almost cringed, for he knew the voice well enough. It was Colin Creevey. Hermione, however, was not focused on the camera toting leech. Rather, she was watching this Wellington woman, who Levitated the frozen Peeves (still with a look of laughter and in the middle of tossing a plate of food) from the Great Hall. Snape followed her closely, as if he were not too keen on letting her out of his sight, though he wore a look of deepest loathing.

The students were well on their way to their separate euphoric Neverlands, when house elves were still mopping up the mess in the Great Hall. Enveloped in shadows, Charna entered her lifeless office. With a wave of her wand, she restored the fire to its usual blazing state, making the room appear just a little more humanized. Laying the still frozen Peeves on her desk, Charna glanced around the room.

It was still empty, though Charna was rather mistrusting. She made a mental note to decorate the office before she went to bed, or at least with a few of the many personal items that she had carried with her. Twelve total trunks were piled against one wall, separated by color. Once she had assured herself that she was entirely alone, Charna muttered the incantation to restore Peeves to his normal state. He exhaled a low groan, and regained control of his motions. Charna vanished the plate in his hands, wearing a smile.

"Nice work, Peeves," she complimented the resident troublemaker. Even for not liking the poltergeist, he had done more than what she had expected of him. Peeves grinned, and took a mock stage bow.

"Why thank you, m'lady - at your service anytime," he replied smoothly, before gliding out of the room. Charna sighed. _It's going to be a long night_, she thought to herself.


	3. Highest and Mightiest

((Many, many cookies to Dee for creating Dante, as well as Lucas Raine.))

"Nice work yourself, Miss Wellington," a velvet voice complimented with an amused tone. The voice was a woman's, whose head happened to be in the middle of Charna's fireplace. Charna blinked a few times, to make sure that she had actually seen the face of the other woman, though there could have been no doubt about it. The woman was Dante Luna, an old friend of Charna's, and an old enemy as well. Currently, the two were on level ground, having recently settled a conflict over the mentioning of Charna's deceased father. In the interest of both of their lives, they had decided in the end to put old differences aside. Charna knelt by the hearth, already feeling the cold stone cut cruelly into her kneecaps, numbing them upon contact.

"Did you like it, then?" Charna questioned, returning Dante's amused smile with one of her own. "Peeves was excellent, in my opinion. Of course, I have never liked him, but give him leave to wreak havoc on a crowd of happy students at a feast, and he will do back flips and sing 'Waltzing Matilda' to do whatever it is you might wish," Charna laughed - a cold, cruel laugh that even sent chills down her spine. "It has been an interesting first day, nonetheless- speaking of which, where the hell were you? You've missed out on the … festivities, shall we say." A grin cracked around the corners of Charna's drawn mouth.

The head of Dante, framed by tongues of amber flame, laughed. Her brown locks glistened as the fluid-like, almost musical sound escaped her lips. _Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I just can't decide which Charna is, but we'll be living together for the next nine months. _Dante thought to herself, knowing the full benefits and consequences of accepting the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. "As I recall," Dante remarked, still with a bit of a chuckle hinting at her voice. "You once sang 'Waltzing Matilda' after you had consumed too many glasses of … rum, I believe it was," Dante remarked, before laughing again. It was certainly enjoyable, to converse with a familiar face that could relate to her on both a different and secret level. Memories were painful, as well as bittersweet, though recalling the humorous ones had no apparent consequence for the thought troubled Dante Luna.

"As I further recall, Miss Luna, you made up your own song, and then you were too dizzy to sit properly, so you toppled onto the floor and kept right on," Charna reminded the woman with a laugh. _To recall such times of youth, when we were so innocent. How things have changed, drastically. It seems that the very world has turned upside down, our equilibriums both unbalanced now. We know each other on a different level, and we can only wait, which is bothersome because I'm the most impatient person that I know. _Suddenly, Charna became more serious. Her eyes narrowed, ready to decipher any facial expression that Dante made following her next question. Several years as an Unspeakable had proved useful. "You're not answering my question, Dante. What's keeping you, and why aren't you here?" Charna inquired, narrowing her eyes a bit more.

"Business, Charna. Just business - it was Lucas Raine this evening, if you must know," Dante drawled, as if she were suffering to reveal even the most miniscule bits of information that she could. "I'll be arriving in the morning, as Dumbledore said. I've told him that I had to straighten out some personal affairs before heading to Hogwarts to teach lessons," she followed, allowing herself another chortle of sorts. "I wasn't lying, was I? Anyway, enough of boring you with my business dealings - how has Severus take your being there?"

This time, it was Charna's turn to laugh. "Not too well, I might tell you," she indulged her friend with a pleased air radiating from her regal form. "I assure you that he will be ecstatic to see you," she pronounced, her voice dripping with blatant sarcasm. Snape had always had somewhat of a hatred of the two women, dating back to their days at Hogwarts, when they used to strut about, the highest and mightiest of Hogwarts.

"Yes, I'm quite ecstatic," a voice drawled. From the hearth, Charna's blue eyes locked on the black ones of Severus Snape, who was framed in her doorway, wearing a rather pleased yet unpleasant look.


	4. Forces of Fury

Harry drifted off to sleep again.

"Take my body, Harry ...."   
  
"Bow to death, Harry - it may even be painless..."   
  
"He's gone. Sirius is gone."   
  
A blur of painful memories assaulted Harry in his sleep, which was the very reason that he did not want to sleep. He had stayed up as long as he could, in the common room, staring blankly into the fire as if it contained the world's secrets. Yet, despite his hours of staring, Harry had not managed to glean anything from it. Part of him had been longing for another glimpse of Sirius' head in the fire, even though it would never come.   
  
Harry's memories reeled like a roll of film, in chronological order. It began with the images of his parents, waving to him through the Mirror of Erised. They were swallowed by a burst of acid green light, and the horrific scene of his parent's death melted into the graveyard, where he had seen Cedric die and Voldemort return from his state of semi-consciousness. That faded into the memories of his hands, bleeding with the message '_I will not lie_,' which gave way to the scene imprinted in his brain forever - the Department of Mysteries.   
  
Another night of nightmares caused Harry to awake with a start, breathing heavily as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, making their separate incisions as they went, slowly. His vision blurred, Harry fumbled for the glasses that he knew he had placed on his night stand, just an hour or so before. With a shaking, sweating hand, he placed them on, and objects came into sharper focus. Luckily, his dorm mates were far into their peaceful Neverlands, and hadn't the slightest care in the world that one of their fellows had driven himself into nightmares and cold sweats.   
  
Quietly, Harry crept to the water jug, positioned just underneath the window. He only dared to pour himself a sip's worth, and in one gulp he drained it, being as cautious as he could to make the least noise possible. Despite the papers' portrayal of him as a 'tragic little hero constantly vying for attention,' Harry wanted nothing of the sort. Giving in to his former impulses, Harry crept out of the dormitory, daring to move only about a step per minute as he crept down the silent corridor.   
  
Gingerly, Harry tested his weight on the first stair. After it did not creak, he gained confidence with each step, and soon found himself standing at the foot of the stairs. Here, Harry thought that he would be able to breathe a bit easier, though he was instead shocked by the presence of a first year, her white blonde curls plastered to her pale forehead. By the appearance of things, she had been crying. Though Harry knew he could not be seen, covered in the shadows, he wiped the sweat from his forehead on the back of his pajamas sleeve.   
  
Blinking, Harry thought for a moment about whether or not he should head back upstairs, but resisting the urge to do so, he stepped forward into the light. "Umm ... hi," was all that he could manage for the present situation. Dazedly, the girl blinked back up at him, her large blue eyes rimmed with tears. _She looks so familiar, but I could have sworn that we've never met,_ Harry thought to himself. To the girl, he added, "What's your name?"

"C-Catherine W-Wellington," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, wiping her tearstained face on the back of a lacy sleeve of her night gown. "You don't have to tell me who you are - I already know, Harry Potter." Harry had grown used to this, so he settled on a polite nod, before crossing the room and sitting himself in a chair before the girl. This whole situation was a little unexpected for him, though it was much better than returning to his tortured dreams. He noticed that they grew more detailed, as if he could actually feel them all over again. Each time, his scar would sear with pain.

Sadly, Harry smiled at the girl. Obviously that was where he had recognized the young girl - she was a spitting image of his enigmatic Transfiguration professor, Charna Wellington. This had to be her daughter then. "What's wrong?" Harry inquired politely, fixing his emerald green eyes on the girl. She seemed to mature, too worn before her years. She seemed so reserved, yet when Harry posed that question, it punctured everything and the dam of her reserve crumbled. First, she swore Harry to secrecy, not even knowing why really she told her thoughts to a 'tragic hero boy.' After Harry had sworn his secrecy, she relived for him the events of the evening.

__

"Mother please!" Catherine cried, pleading with her mother.

"Don't you trouble me with your weeping! I have enough to worry about, you silly girl. Whatever is wrong with you? Getting into Gryffindor - I raised you better than that! You are pitiful - what would my father say about his grandchild? Probably that you're as much of a disgrace as my brother, who married a filthy mud blood rather than accept who he was, and what he was. You are no Wellington! Get out of my sight!" Charna spat, pacing around her decorated room rather angrily.

"Not everything is the way you want it! You know what, I met Harry Potter on the train, and he's a nice person!" Catherine spat, angry, her tiny fists balled into forces of fury. Charna raised a hand, and smacked the girl across the face.

"You will learn your place! You answer to no one but me, is that understood?" Catherine nodded slowly, beginning to cry. "Weak girl - I should have sent you to Durmstrang, to get these ideas about Harry Potter out of your head. The boy is a tragic little hero - stay away from him."

"Yes, mother," Catherine finally gave in, leaving her mother's office. 'Hell of a year this is going to be,' she thought to herself.

Looking up nervously, Catherine wrung her hands in her lap. "I don't believe what she says about you," she offered.

Harry was a bit dazed, not the least bit skilled with consolations. Through one of the windows, the sun had begun to break the horizon. "Look, this is Hogwarts. Your mum's a professor, so what? You have freedom at Hogwarts." Catherine smiled, needing only those simple sentences to cheer her up. Harry muttered something about waking his friends, before he took leave of the girl and headed upstairs.


	5. Temper, Temper

"Isn't this interesting? Two old friends, having a fireside chat," Snape drawled, his beetle black eyes flashing dangerously. "Perhaps I could join this little tea party?" he inquired. "Yes, I'm quite ecstatic to see you both, but I've got to agree with _your _friend Wellington here. What's keeping you? The tea is growing rather cold," Slowly, Severus moved toward the fire, inflicting his wrath into each step that he took closer toward the Wellington woman, whom he so detested, and Dante Luna, who irked him, though not as much as Charna Wellington did so effortlessly.

"You never cease to be an ass, do you?" Dante muttered, adding something rather nasty to him under her breath, as he took a seat at one of Charna's high-backed armchairs, that appeared the fantasy out of some old Gothic book. Softly, he chuckled. "Interesting proposition, Luna, but I'll have to decline. You see, you're too far away, and why would I waste my time when I have Wellington here?" he raised his eyebrows, gesturing with a sallow hand to Charna's back.

"_Out_, Severus. Now," Charna ordered, standing quickly, as if she wanted to evict an unruly child from a lesson. Behind her, Dante watched, amused to see whether or not Charna would actually do something she had been threatening to for years, which was to disembody him, limb by limb. With surprising, serpent-like speed, Charna drew her wand and pointed it directly between his eyes. An angry flush rose in her pale cheeks, though the color drained from Snape's face, rather dazed by the reaction.

When he regained his composure, Snape smiled - a sickeningly false smile that further enraged Charna. "Temper, temper Wellington," he teased, keeping his eyes on her wand at all times. "I shall have the pleasure of dining with you both, three meals a day for the next nine months," he remarked, rising from his chair with Charna's wand still trained between his eyes.

Charna rolled her eyes, her impatience increasing by the nanosecond. "Out, Severus. Now," she repeated. "Or I shall disembody you, and cast your guts into the corridor. I don't imagine Filch would fancy cleaning that, so you had better get going." Having proven his point, Snape obliged. When he was outside of the office, he realized once again how dangerous of a person the Wellington woman could be, with her mood swings. _Women_, Snape thought to himself, as he weaved his way through the labyrinth of passages that would eventually lead him back to his sleeping quarters. His robes billowed around him as he walked, feeling particularly victorious.

Breathing to steady herself, Charna turned back to the fire, but Dante was gone.


	6. Mondays Are Always A Drag

"Good morning _Professor _Wellington," Dante greeted her old friend with an amused grin as she spotted the tall woman's back heading toward the Great Hall for breakfast. It was rather awkward for the pair of them, as both in school had vowed never to return to the stone enclosure. Yet there they were, about to take their places at the staff table, teaching at the place that they vowed they never would return to. At being addressed, Charna turned on her polished heel, in a whirl of blue and silver dress robes. A smile of recognition played around the corners of her mouth.

"Good morning yourself _Professor _Luna. How kind of you to finally turn up," Charna returned, while students of all ages milled around them on their way to breakfast, throwing the pair odd glances now and again. "You know, you could do me a great favor …" she began, to have Dante respond by raising her sculpted eyebrows in question. "… by joining me for breakfast. Shall we proceed?" This continued to the Great Hall - an ironic formal exchange of sorts, as if the pair of women were merely meeting one another for the first time, after many years of being apart, though they still teased one another like school girls. With a false smile, Charna proceeded toward the staff table. "It seems our good friend Severus has elected to join us," Charna whispered in Dante's ear. "Good morning Headmaster," Charna and Dante chorused at the same time, taking their seats on either side of him.

Dumbledore nodded, his fiery blue eyes twinkling beneath his thick half-moon spectacles. "A fine one at that, Professors Wellington and Luna," he responded dreamily, as he was rather occupied with observing the bewitched ceiling. The sun had just risen, leaving the sky in a misty blue haze. A few clouds were strewn across the sky, and occasionally a song bird would fly across the picturesque scene, fluttering serenely to an unknown destination. "It's a shame that you could not have been at dinner last night. It was rather enjoyable," he commented, still captivated by the natural beauty of a new morning, directing his last comment toward Dante. The man was a genius, as some said, but there was definitely something strange about him - after all, he was always known as the wizarding world's "mad scientist" of the age. Perhaps he lived up to his unofficial title, after all. Breaking his gaze away from the ceiling, Dumbledore inhaled. "Ah," he said, exhaling. "Can you just smell the anticipation?"

Whatever the anticipation was, it was not coming from the students. Tousle-haired and grumbling, students filed into the Great Hall for their first breakfast of the term. Ron practically threw his bag down beside him. "Ron," Hermione scolded him. "You shouldn't try to split your bag the first day of term." Though hers was filled with several more books than what was required for their courses. Apparently she had already visited the library to pick up some 'light reading' to start the term with. Harry eyed her bag carefully, and shook his head. "What's on the schedule for the morning?" he wondered aloud, while helping himself to a rather large quantity of scrambled eggs and toast.

"Transfiguration is first, then Defense Against the Dark Arts, and double Potions with the Slytherins," Hermione read, folding her schedule into her pocket, while handing Ron and Harry theirs. "Bloody great - at least we'll get to see what that Wellington woman is like … and the other one - Professor Luna, according to the schedule," Harry remarked, not so pleased at having Professor Snape on the first day back from term. Overhead, hundreds of owls streamed in, though a snowy white owl was absent from among the range of brown, gold, and black. Across from them, Neville's owl landed next to him with a brown package - most likely delivering something that he had forgotten to pack, as usual.

"What have we got on today's schedule?" Neville questioned, unwrapping and hurriedly wrapping the package again. It contained a few spare pairs of knickers. Much to Neville's displeasure, Draco Malfoy spotted him before he could properly seal the package again, and shouted the message to his fellow Slytherins that Longbottom could not remember to pack his knickers, which from a distance appeared to have brown stains in them. Neville's face turned scarlet. Ron, in the meantime, was busy glaring daggers at Draco Malfoy, and his laughing court of nasty Slytherin friends. It seemed that Crabbe and Goyle, his two thuggish cronies, had giant blood in them. They had grown at least three inches over the summer, making them more massive than ever before. "Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and double Potions with the Slytherins." Neville choked on his porridge.

"P-p-p-rofessor S-snape?" he questioned, turning paper white. Sadly, his other classmates nodded. There was certainly no anticipation there.

Nevertheless, Charna smiled. "Yes - anticipation. What I miss most about Hogwarts … there are so many young minds to mold," she commented, almost wistfully as she pushed a few kippers around her plate. A few students had already begun to head out. "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I have to prepare for my lesson - I have sixth years, first thing this morning." After a polite nod, Charna swept away from the table, followed by a murderous glare from Severus Snape. Shortly afterward, Dante Luna used the same excuse to take leave of the staff having breakfast, though her excuse was much more believable, as she had just arrived at Hogwarts that morning, looking a bit worse for wear, as if she had not slept in days.


	7. Founders and Ferns

"Well, it's Transfiguration first thing this morning - I guess we had better head out. I don't really like the look of that woman, even if she was a brilliant Chaser for England at one point. I can't believe Professor McGonagall's gone on our first N.E.W.T. year -"

"Let's go, Ron," Hermione commented, tugging at his arm to lead him from the Great Hall. He was not so keen on doing this, as he was busy talking with Ginny, as well as being only half through with his kippers and orange juice. Silently, Harry followed suit, rather glum. True to his word, he had not breathed a word about Catie Wellington, who apparently was the daughter of this high-strung professor. "I certainly hope this lesson is good," Hermione commented, while Harry and Ron exchanged looks. She seemed to draw something out of any boring lesson, being the only student probably in Hogwarts history to resist the endless drone of Professor Binns and his History of Magic class, with the endless tales of goblin and giant wars. The trio did not face this torture until Wednesday, but no one in the sixth year N.E.W.T. class was really looking forward to it.

"Er, am I hallucinating, or is there a miniature panther sitting on that desk?" Harry questioned in a somewhat dazed voice, taken aback as he blinked a few times, as if digesting the fact that a panther was in the classroom. Miniature was hardly the term for it, of course, but it was only about two feet shorter than a full grown panther. It had deep, amethyst colored eyes, with which it was blinking serenely at the class. Perhaps the Wellington woman was an Animagus, and this was her way of welcoming students into her class. The startled students took their seats, apparently just as dazed as Harry had been. The panther appeared rather tame, and merely gazed at the students as if they were some particularly interesting object worth its time. Rather unexpectedly, the panther rose, stretching itself out on the desk before it landed gracefully on the floor.

The bell announcing the start of the first class sounded, and still no Professor Wellington. When the chatter of students meeting after a summer died away, and there was still no professor present, the panther-like creature spoke. "Ad interim, adsum." Which of course was Latin for 'for the meantime, I am here,' though none of the students could speak Latin, and had never encountered a creature of this nature that had the ability, which left the lot of them rather dumbfounded. Just a minute later after the dazed silence had settled again, the sound of the door opening revealed Charna Wellington, entering the room with her head so high, that one would have thought upon observation she had been declared ruler of the universe in the short span of time that she had left breakfast, and when she had entered the room of nervous but expectant sixth years.

"Good morning class. As the headmaster has previously introduced me last night before that most _unfortunate _display by our resident poltergeist last evening, I am Professor Wellington. I am sure you have all heard lectures as to the importance of your N.E.W.T. years at Hogwarts, as I know my teachers gave lectures to the same nature when I was in school. However, I am required to remind you that your N.E.W.T scores will reflect upon the careers that you all take when you become qualified witches and wizards, so it behooves you to do well in this class. You are N.E.W.T. students, so I expect nothing but the best behavior from you, and nothing but the best results from assignments." Charna paused for a moment, peering around the classroom at the students, who were still transfixed by the Latin-speaking panther like creature. "Oh yes, this is Romulus - Founder of Rome. If your Care of Magical Creatures teacher has done his job, you should have been told about this breed of Latin speaking cat already." There was a tone in Charna's voice that suggested this was doubtful. Harry and Ron exchanged dark looks, while Draco Malfoy and his friends exchanged gleeful ones. "Factum est … ave atque vale, Romulus," Charna added to the cat, who vanished from their midst in a cloud of amethyst smoke, in a shade similar to his eyes.

"Today's lesson will consist of a simple review, or what _should _be a simple review for you all, being the N.E.W.T. students that you are. You will use the Conjurus spell that I am told Professor McGonagall taught you all the previous year to first conjure a fern. You will then use the proper incantation and wand movements to Transfigure this fern into a rose bush - roses can be color of your choice. This should only take half of the period for advanced students, so the remainder of the period will be spent on a test, just to see how much you all remember. Begin," Charna commanded icily, while the students in the classroom, House aside, exchanged rather nasty glances. It looked like this woman, if possible, was worse than Professor McGonagall along the lines of work. With a bit of grumbling, the students set to work. Ron's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Mr …?" Charna drawled, as if Ron were some insignificant thing that she should not have been concerning herself with. Draco, taking advantage of the professor's attention now being focused on Ron, used his opportunity to pass a note to Harry. It depicted him making rather odd faces, like a snake, while Ron answered the professor with his name. Harry threw a nasty glance at Draco, before bending over the note and writing something rather nasty back. "Well, Mr. Weasley, what is it?" Charna inquired, keeping her eyes on the exchange of note passing that she was supposed to be oblivious to.

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" he questioned.

Charna's eyebrows were in danger of brushing her hairline. "That, Mr. Weasley, is none of your business, nor is it any of mine. Return to your Conjuring and Transfiguring. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter - one of you had better explain why you are passing love notes in my class, while the other brings the note to me. _Immediately." _ It was ironic how like Snape she could sound, when she demanded something of her students. A few looked up, interested, while others, clearly faced with their work overload, were busy Conjuring their ferns. Hermione was one of these, though she, like Padma and Parvati Patil nearby, threw interested glances toward the front of the room once in awhile, to see if anything interesting had happened yet. Charna crossed her arms. "Well, if you two want to carry on your little relationship - do it elsewhere," Charna commented coolly, watching the anger of both boys with satisfaction as they moved toward her desk.

"I can't stop the fact that Potter is an insufferable git," Draco said coolly, when he had drawn level with the professor's desk. "Well, Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?" Charna questioned, raising her eyebrows in a way that suggested she was amused by the entire situation, as of course she shouldn't have been, because she was a professor. Harry threw a murderous glance at Draco, who was wearing a rather annoying smirk. He kept wondering why the professor was allowing this to continue, but as he had the opportunity to openly insult his rival, he would not pass it up. "Well, if Draco wasn't such a swotty little prat, I wouldn't have a problem with him," Harry replied, rather cross.

"I see - so Mr. Malfoy, you believe Mr. Potter to be an insufferable git, and Mr. Potter, you think that Mr. Malfoy is swotty little prat. I see - take your seats, and ten points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for passing notes in my class. Don't let it happen again. Understood?" Charna drawled, looking from Harry, who seemed rather relieved that she hadn't thrown him in detention for disrupting in the class, to Draco, who was fuming.

"T-This is outrageous!" Draco shouted, angry red patches rising in his cheeks. His pale hands instinctively balled into fists. "How can you take points from Slytherin?" he demanded, slamming his fists onto the top of the desk, causing a few in bottles to rattle. Charna merely glanced at the ink bottles for a moment, before fixing a menacing gaze on Draco that caused him to recoil a few steps. Harry, rather wisely, had accepted this silent punishment of deducting house points and retreated to his seat. The rest of the class now watched, to see how Charna would handle Draco's typical "I didn't wake up on the right side of the bed" temper tantrums.

"Well, it seems that a cat has caught your tongue, with all of the stuttering that you're doing - of course as you've already witnessed, I have a rather large cat, should you wish to rectify the issue. I can take points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, because you are out of line, and because I am your professor, meaning that I have the authority to do so, without any nonsense backtalk from you. A further ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, and let us hope that you will learn the valuable lesson of holding your tongue." Charna's voice rang around the now silent room. Surprisingly enough, Hermione had already managed to conjure her fern. "Oh yes, and five points to Miss Granger for conjuring the fern within the first ten minutes of the lesson," she added as a sort of afterthought, furthering Draco's rage. Ron had only managed a fern leaf by that point, because he had long ago (like the rest of the class) abandoned his wand work to watch and see what Charna would do to Draco, who seemed so angry that he was at a loss for words.

"Out (here, he muttered a rather nasty swear word) - rageous! Why, if my father-"

Charna cut him off. "Your father, Draco Malfoy, is imprisoned in Azkaban, and therefore cannot buy anyone's way to your happiness at the moment. Though, if it suits you, I think you've earned two detentions and a visit to Professor Snape, as well as a zero for the day's work. Go." She pointed toward the door, and after he left, she said "I hope no one else has any objections to .." the bell rang. "All right, we'll work on the Transfiguring bit tomorrow- pick up these questions on your way out and hand them into me by next lesson." With that, the class filed out, everyone but Slytherins looking rather happy, as this new Transfiguration professor (who was once a famed Quidditch player and then later an Unspeakable) earned their respect. Her words to Draco Malfoy traveled around the school like wildfire.


	8. Resurrecting Rivalries

"Bloody evil …" Harry commented, shaking his head as strands of his hair plastered themselves to his forehead. The sixth years were holed up in the library, pouring over books after a long day of lessons. N.E.W.T. was, if possible, more difficult and hectic in the first day than O.W.L. year had been altogether. Piles of homework awaited them after their first day. Many other students in their year were bent over books, yawning as the sun set behind mullioned windows in the library. A magnified voice announced the closing of the library in fifteen minutes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed up to Madam Pince to check out their books, and then they headed back for the Gryffindor Common Room. "Brilliant though … did you see the way Professor Wellington handled Malfoy? I don't mind having her as Head of House while McGonagall's away …" Harry muttered sleepily as he threw his books onto a table. Crookshanks, who had been dozing on the table, leapt off of the table, looking rather offended. "I don't suppose she could have been a bit nice on the first day back on term though … doesn't seem like she's much different from McGonagall, giving us this load of homework …."

"I know mate … I know …" Ron muttered sleepily, raking his hands through his hair as he searched for bits of information to aid him in the two foot essay on belladonna that Snape had assigned them for homework. "That was great though, wasn't it? I think I remember dad saying something about her … working at the Ministry as an Unspeakable or something like that. She was a brilliant chaser for England though …."

__

Wham. Ink bottles rattled dangerously, and a few pieces of parchment slid from the desk, floating in an almost serene way as they fell to the floor. "What in the name of Merlin do you think that you're doing, Wellington?" an angry voice said. It was Severus Snape, and he had been the one to slam his fists on her desk. Up until that point, Charna had not acknowledged that anyone had entered her office. She had been writing something on a piece of parchment, calmly as if nothing disturbed her in the slightest. Snape's eyes glittered with a silent threat as they met the depths of Charna's icy blue ones, though they in contrast to his appeared rather calm and collected. Then, to add salt to what apparently was a gaping wound for Severus, Charna rewarded him with an almost sickeningly sweet smile, her pearly white teeth gleaming oddly in the firelight, while the patterns of light emitted by candles on the desk gave emphasis to the odd smile. A dark scowl curled on Snape's face, and a line appeared in his forehead, as if he was containing rage.

"Oh … good evening, Severus. I didn't hear you come in, but you know you could have resorted to other methods of catching my attention. 'Good evening' would have done well, actually, instead of flying off of a hinge and sending my papers to the floor. What if it were something important? Though, I take it you have something to say to me, because I, apparently, don't know what in the name of Merlin I happen to be doing," said Charna calmly, while she folded her hands on top of the desk, giving a slight glance to the papers on the floor before returning her attention to Snape. She smiled in a serene sort of way, before taking on a more expressionless, business like manner, arching an inquisitive eyebrow as she did so. "Well, would you like to have a seat? Or perhaps a cup of tea … maybe you don't like tea, so you would prefer coffee instead?" Charna gestured to a seat across from her high-backed, throne like one. Snape glared at her.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," said Snape as he slid into a chair, his sallow hands digging into the crushed velvet almost immediately. His anger was obvious; Charna had an art of provoking people with blatant sarcasm. He paused for a moment to glare at Charna, who seemed the least bit intimidated by his constant scowls and murderous glares. Of course, she was a different breed of woman - those glares usually sent students stumbling away in fear, and they intimidated his colleagues at times when he was feeling particularly venomous toward the world. Snape had once admired that about Charna - how she was never usually intimidated by anything, not weak enough to shiver in fright at a glare, though at the moment it just fueled his annoyance. "Draco Malfoy, and what you said to him in your class this morning. That's unlawful, you know. I could go to the Headmaster with it, about how his new _brilliant_ Transfiguration teacher is insulting students, and their fathers." He seemed satisfied with himself, as if this threat would subside Charna's sarcasm.

Charna's eyes narrowed dangerously. "First of all, Severus, it's well within my right as a teacher at this school to say whatever I like to a student that thinks he is mature enough to argue with me. Furthermore, the boy just proves his immaturity when he brings his father into things, so I merely set him straight about his father's current social position. I do not see any harm in that, and if you so much as dare to question my authority or threaten me again, you'll be sorely reminded of the fact that I, not you, am acting as Deputy Headmistress." Her tones were threatening, each word laced with an icy venom that had a promise behind them. "Though, from what I'm told Severus, you are not that popular among the students, because you make a regular habit of singling them out because of their faults. So, before you attempt your empty lecture on me, apply your twisted principles to your own classroom, and stop trying to supervise mine. It's like the pot calling the kettle black, you know …" Charna mused, acquiring an almost thoughtful look as she trailed into silence. This was the way she enjoyed provoking people, enjoyed arguments … which did not consist of raised voices. She would rather the metaphorical blood be shed on words alone.

A malovent grin replaced the formerly threatening scowl on Snape's face. His beetle black eyes had a triumphant look to them, as if he had suddenly acquired a rather tempting thought. As calmly as he could through his growing anger, he spoke to Charna, his malovent grin still in place, as if it were cemented there for the ages. "Yes, the pot calling the kettle black, Wellington …. I see that _your _father was rather productive himself. How long was the man in Azkaban, exactly? Terribly sorry, though - I heard that he died there, a few years ago. Cold, lonely, forsaken by his friends and family … what an awful way to live his life." His tone was one of mock pity, though he stood abruptly as Charna knocked over her chair with a clatter, standing in a matter of seconds. He kept one hand positioned over his pocket, just in case he would need his wand. The woman had her temper, and it seemed that he had struck a barb of sorts with the comment about her father, as he knew it would. Severus had his own methods of provocation, which were nevertheless effective. He watched as Charna crossed the distance between them in another matter of moments, until they were just one or two feet apart.

So many emotions raced through Charna's body. Rage and anger were the foremost, though the stinging sorrow of the past swirled around in the mix of it all. She was close to her father, very close, and when he had been placed in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, it was devastating to her, as a child in school. It meant the absence of stories, lessons told to her by the firelight, as she sat at her father's feet, engulfed in the smell of his cigar smoke. She would never hear his deep rich voice again, laced with years of knowledge, so much experience and intelligence - the last time she heard it was when she was allowed a death bed visit of him. Then, he was robbed of his fervor, his voice was cracked and the energy drained from him. That was nearly two years ago, when he finally passed away without a hope in the world, just the day before several Death Eaters were broken out of Azkaban. It was a very sensitive subject indeed, with her father. The last memory she had of him was just as he died, his last words, and the look of peace settled upon a broken man as his head found repose in a thin pillow for the last time. "You have no _right_ to speak of my father, you foul, weak excuse of a human being!" Charna spat bitterly, the heat from her anger radiating from her at last, after years of locking away her emotions on the subject. "My father was a noble man - he never needed his gold to manipulate people. How _dare _you speak ill of him!" she was practically shouting. Then, she did something completely unexpected.

Faster than lightning, Charna balled her right hand into a fist and swung as hard as she could, the tips of her knuckles and a few rings on her fingers colliding with the side of Severus's face. She had a surprisingly strong force behind her punch, when provoked enough. Snape stumbled back several steps, his head colliding with the edge of a book shelf in the back of Charna's modest sized office. His sallow face was bleeding, already beginning to swell, as did the look of pure shock in his eyes. Chest heaving, Charna prepared herself for another swing, though before she could, Severus Snape made a very wise move, and vacated the room before she could swing again. The sound of the door to her office slamming rung in Charna's ears for a few minutes, before she could regain her thoughts.


	9. Stirring Trouble

The Great Hall was practically buzzing the following morning. All of the students were whispering to one another, as through their chatter rumors were flying. All seemed to be pointing at Professor Snape, and none of them were bothering to keep their voices down as they observed the scowling Potions Master (now sporting a rather nasty looking bruise on his jaw) as he took his breakfast. If it was possible, Snape was wearing a darker scowl than was custom with him, of course this could have been an illusion, as a good portion of the right side of his normally pale face was rather purpled and blackened. He spoke to no one, and endured the curious mutters of his colleagues. For once, a similarity between teacher and student emerged, as both were gossiping wildly about how the stern man could have received such a blow from another person. Or that he had allowed such a person, whoever it was, to get close enough to him - he always made a habit of withdrawing himself from the world around him. Charna, the culprit, was enjoying herself, chatting animatedly to Professors Sinistra and Vector, occasionally drawing a laugh from the women as she said something to entertain them.   
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione of course noticed Professor Snape's change in appearance. Ron stifled a laugh, bits of scrambled eggs flying from his mouth as he failed in concealing it. Hermione looked positively revolted. Ron looked puzzled, as if he had done nothing outside of the general rules of table manners to offend her. Harry pressed his hand over his mouth, suppressing a chortle. Suddenly, everything seemed magnificently hilarious to him. Professor Snape, the least favorite of his teachers, appeared to have been dealt quite a blow, and Ron's lacking table manners seemed to magnify the humor of the morning. "Wonder -" Ron had the courtesy to swallow the toast in his mouth at this point. Hermione looked rather relieved, though she threw him a last reproachful glance. "Wonder if anyone knows -" he began, without real need to finish his sentence. Further along the Gryffindor table, Seamus and Dean were having a discussion about who could have 'done it.'   
  
"You know Charna, I was wondering if you could tell me something," said Dante casually, leaning forward slightly, her hands placed on Charna's desk. It was after breakfast, and neither of them had a lesson to teach, so Dante had sought Charna out for a bit of conversation. Silently, Charna gestured the woman to an empty chair across from her desk, which Dante took, waiting for Charna to speak. It appeared that Charna was in one of her more thoughtful moods, ones in which she spoke sparingly, processing several hundred things at once. Absently, she scratched Romulus's ears, so the room was filled with the sound of his purrs. "Domus dulcis domus," Romulus muttered, obviously deeply pleased with Charna's scratching behind his ears. He had said 'home sweet home,' something he usually said when he was rather pleased with himself. Dante's sweeping gaze held Romulus in it for a moment, before she focused again on Charna, silently willing her to speak.   
  
"And what would that be?" Charna drawled, raising an eyebrow, though she had an idea of what Dante was wondering about. She did not have to wait long to find out exactly what the other woman wanted to know, and it was exactly what Charna had been expecting. It was the very same question flying around the school, from students and teachers alike. "Well - what happened to Severus? I saw him last night before he went into your office, and this morning he's sporting a rather large bruise on the side of his face. Of course I wasn't that close to him, but it looks like a few rings may have been imprinted into the side of his face. You can't blame me for having suspicions, Charna." Charna smiled, more of a leer than anything, but she seemed somewhat pleased with herself.   
  
"Do you think it looks nice on him? I could have given him a few more really, but he turned tail and ran before I got the chance," Charna muttered, thinking over the previous night's events. "He deserved it though," she added bitterly, thinking of the memories that he had made her recall. When she awoke that morning, Charna was harboring a concentrated hatred toward Severus Snape once again; his words had made her recall the horrors of her past in her dreams at night. In her sleeping quarters, Charna was already secretly brewing a Draught of Peace to remedy her dreams. She would not allow something so weak to infiltrate her mind, and for her situation, she needed to keep a cool head. "Old Snivellus was asking for it, Dante. He brought up my father, and you know how I am about that." A scowl crossed Charna's face.   
  
Dante sighed, sounding somewhat exasperated. She never got the chance to speak again though; she opened her mouth, but shut it again as a voice from behind Charna spoke. "Oh good - Wellington, Luna, I have you both in the same place. What a stroke of luck," the voice said, sounding a bit bored. "Anyway, I have an important message, so I need your attention - both of you," the voice continued. Charna closed her eyes for a moment, as if begging a higher power for patience. She recognized the voice, and it was not one that she was fond of hearing at any time. The voice belonged to Alexander Avery, who had always managed to drive Charna's annoyance to new and terrifying heights. Opening her eyes again, Charna seemed to gain at least a little composure, though there was definitely something different about her usual stern regality when she adjusted her chair so that she could look Avery in the eyes. "Right," Avery began. "For Miss Dante Luna, and Miss Charna Wellington, a message from the Master of the Marks. You are to Apparate to Diagon Alley this evening. There is a derelict shop, by the name of Strings and Things - you are to be inside promptly at seven." With that, Avery's head vanished from the fire.   
  
The two women exchanged curious glances of question. "I wonder what we're going to be doing. I have an idea … but - unless he's coming out into the open now, I don't think he would risk it. You see, there's an old festival that Diagon Alley has annually, and it's guaranteed to have record numbers this year," Charna mused. "So you think he's going to have us attack it, do you?" Dante followed. Solemnly, Charna nodded. "That's my guess." She hoped that she was wrong.


	10. Fell Deeds Awake

All around, there was a clatter of forks on plates as students ate dinner. Harry was staring at his peas, though he had his hands folded firmly in his lap. His eyes were dazed, staring into the golden plate as if there were another dimension beyond the shiny surfaces not concealed by peas, mashed potatoes, and roast ham. The sounds of chattering rolled off of him like water off of a duck's back, and he remained suspended in thought, an odd buzzing noise in his head. Perhaps it was the chatter, perhaps he had allowed himself to weaken his mind by seeping into thought. A moment later, Harry was clapping a hand to his forehead as a sharp pain shot through his scar. Ron, who had been sitting beside him, looked over from the middle of devouring a steak and kidney pie to stare in a concerned way at Harry. "You okay, mate?" the look said. Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his mind. "It's just the scar again. Listen, I think I'm going to head to the common room - I want to finish my homework before midnight," Harry muttered. Without further explanation, he excused himself from the Great Hall. Yet when he reached the safety of the common room, he felt no desire to be in the company of chattering first years. Instead, Harry retreated to the cool air of his dormitory. Without undressing, Harry threw himself onto his bed and fell instantly into a fitful sleep.

A falcon soared into the Great Hall, drawing the eyes of curious students. It was dinner, and not morning post. The falcon landed in front of Charna, who took the letter and sent the bird on its way again. With a curious expression, Charna unfolded the letter. Her eyes scanned the page, and her face fell with each new line she absorbed. "I'm .. terribly sorry headmaster, but I need leave to visit my great uncle Willows. Dante as well. I'm afraid that my dear great uncle is not doing so well, you see … I should return by breakfast tomorrow morning. I would not ask on such short notice, but this letter," Charna waved it around, appearing truly distressed now. "This letter is from my sister, and she says that the healers do not expect him to last the night. He had an attack from a Lethifold, and it drained most of his life." Charna wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. "I want to see him one last time, you know …" she trailed off into sad silence. Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Of course you may go, and Miss Luna as well. If you do not return by breakfast, I can provide substitutes for you both." Charna looked as if anyone could have done her a greater favor. She nodded her thanks and left, Dante following shortly after.

"Well are you ready to go yet? To visit our _dear_ great uncle?" Dante questioned with laughter in her voice. Her eyes followed Charna's progress around her sleeping quarters. With the four-poster draped with silken black sheets, Romulus took advantage of Charna's absence and slept soundly. Charna, meanwhile, rummaged in the depths of her wardrobe, frantically searching for an object and growing more distressed by the minute. When Dante entered, Charna had not taken notice, but she continued her rummaging. As Dante spoke to her, shattering the silence broken only by a few curse words and the sound of more shifting of items in Charna's wardrobe. Charna did not even look up, but laughed softly. "Yes, I thought that was rather good myself," Charna muttered, before continuing her search with renewed fervor. Victorious, she slid something black and glittering into the depths of her thick black cloak pocket. The door of the wardrobe shut with a snap of finality. "Yes, yes let's go now," Charna muttered, somewhat distracted. She crossed the distance to the fire, and from over the mantelpiece she pinched a bit of Floo Powder, and threw it into the fire. Instantly, the flames rose to meet them, a shade of emerald green. Charna stepped in. "Strings and Things!" she spoke clearly. Suddenly, she found herself in a whirl of spinning fireplaces. Then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped, and Charna found herself on a cold stone hearth in a blank room.

Coughing, Charna stumbled out of the fireplace, making room for Dante's arrival. She had traveled to the right place; she was sure of it. The inside had the look and smell of a derelict building, the scents of mold strong beneath her nostrils. A few other figures lurked in the corners of the rooms, and the sounds of a festival carrying on outside were overwhelming. "Evening," said Charna casually, while the figures in the room stepped forward. "Dante is coming behind me," she decided to add for safe measure. A pale, flat face with wide scarlet eyes materialized from the shadows. To this man, Lord Voldemort, Charna inclined her head respectfully. He was flanked by Peter Pettigrew, Archibald Jugson, Alexander Avery, and Bellatrix Lestrange. Their numbers had decreased greatly after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries the previous June. With a whirling sound and dust pouring out from the fireplace, Dante arrived, coughing slightly. Upon seeing that Charna was not alone, she also inclined her head to the Dark Lord, who stared unblinkingly at the pair of them. "Wellington … Luna …" he spoke softly, yet his voice echoed around the room. "Where are your masks?"

"My Lord, I could not put it on at Hogwarts. I need to keep my cover," Charna explained, sliding her Death Eater mask from her cloak pocket. Then, assuming her new identity of a Death Eater, she slid the mask over her face, and cast it into shadow with her hood. Behind her, Dante did the same thing. "Well, you all may have guessed the reason for our meeting at this particular place. I have not called … certain others, because you are the group that needs to prove your loyalty to me. I am going to show myself at this festival, thus sending the wizarding world into a frenzy of fear, such as has not been seen in fourteen or fifteen years. Yes, people will fear Lord Voldemort once again," he declared, his voice echoing around the deserted room. Around him, where his Death Eaters stood, there was a mutual feeling of anticipation. He paused for a moment, to allow the sounds of the festival carrying on outside to drift into the room. Shadows of people flickered across his face, as people passed by them, their forms being cast into the building through the gaps in the paneling. "A speech is to be given by Cornelius Fudge in five minutes, about wizarding unity. Doubtless he will be surrounded by Aurors, but you will take him as a hostage. Kill any others in your way. Those are your instructions."

"Success!" cried the voices of Fred and George Weasley together as they paraded down the streets of Diagon Alley. Weasley's Whiz Bangs were zooming above the heads of awed witches and wizards. Sparklers bewitched to spell things in midair floated about, as did hot pink Catherine wheels and roaring green dragons. Witches and wizards, laughing and talking all around them, made their way to the entrance of Diagon Alley, where a few abandoned shops were. A podium was already erected there, and several Hit Wizards as well as Aurors stood guard around it. "You don't think Death Eaters would be daft enough to try anything this evening, do you?" Fred whispered to his twin. George shook his head in response, and muttered something about being cautious. They, like the thousands of others crammed into the alley, carried on with their merry-making. Nobody thought anything of the Dark Lord or Death Eaters, until the Dark Lord himself and six of his Death Eaters burst through the door of an abandoned shop, just as Cornelius Fudge stepped up to make his speech.


End file.
